


Abandoned

by RubyIntyale



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:24:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyIntyale/pseuds/RubyIntyale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kent leaves something at work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for later chapters.  
> First published on my Livejournal on 24/06/2012.

Joe Chandler wrinkled his nose in disgust at the crisp packet in his right hand, before tossing it into the wire metal bin he was carrying with his left. Who brought the multipack in again? Riley. He’d say something to her next time, he decided. One crisp packet was bad enough. Several were headache inducing. Joe thought about all the fat, salt and general badness the packet had once contained and scowled. 3 years. He’d been trying to get his team to eat decent food for 3 years now. Chandler sighed and continued his lap of the office.

 

Kent’s desk was immaculate, as always. Joe smiled a little at that. At least Kent listened to him, even when no one else did. He was about to turn and walk away when he noticed that Kent’s bottom drawer was ever so slightly open. He knew he should leave it like that. He knew it was irrational and stupid, but he felt compelled to close it. After about a minute of internal debate, he put the bin down on the floor and walked the two steps back to Kent’s desk.

 

He fully intended to close the drawer and have done with it, but something that he saw inside made him stop. He could just see the corner of what looked to be a thick, dark green notebook. He sat down on Kent’s chair and opened the drawer more fully. Yes, it was a notebook, and an expensive looking one at that. Not a standard issue police notebook, or Kent’s usual 50p Wilkinson’s spiral bound.

 

Joe frowned at the notebook. Why was it there? He’d never seen Kent using it out in the field, or even in the office. Joe reached into the drawer and took the notebook out, turning it over in his hands. It was bound in leather, he could tell that by the smell, and it was heavy.

 

He opened it to a random page. Kent’s neat handwriting stared back at him. He caught sight of a date in the right hand corner and realised that what he was holding was in fact Kent’s journal. Joe’s cheeks reddened at his mistake. He was about the close the book and put it back, completely ashamed with himself, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw his own name.

 

He looked again. Yes, it was his name. Clear as anything. Well, now he had to read the sentence around it, out of simple curiosity at the very least.

 

_Joe was in a bad mood all day,_ it said, _I think this mind game the Krays are playing is getting to him more than he wants to admit._

Joe checked the date. 4th October 2010. Kent had had this journal for awhile then. His shoulders slumped at Kent’s words. Yes. The Kray case had got to him. He’d been drunk more than half the time, towards the end, and his OCD had been worse then than ever before. Joe smiled a little. He’d tried so hard to hide his problems. Trust Kent to notice.

 

He started to wonder how far back the journal went. He flicked to the beginning. 2nd February 2009. 2009? That was the start of the Ripper case. Joe swallowed. Kent started this journal at the beginning of the Ripper case? Why? He began to read, and the first paragraph made his breath catch.

 

_Our new DI started today. I don’t think anyone likes him much. Miles told me to leave him alone, to go to him for my orders and no one else, but I’m not going to do that. I like the new DI. He’s called Joe, and he actually looks at me when we speak, which is more than can be said for most of the guys in the office. He’s beautiful too. Like, really, unfairly beautiful. I’ve met him once and we’ve had one conversation, but tonight I can’t stop thinking about him. I think I’m done for._

Chandler felt hot. He reached up and loosened his tie with one hand, never taking his eyes from Kent’s words.

 

_3 rd February 2009_

_Someone died tonight, and we should’ve stopped it. I know Joe feels worse than any of us. I can’t believe we were so wrong about the army guy. I feel awful for wasting my time following his pathetic arse around when I could’ve been staking out an actual murderer._

Joe laughed a little at that. Kent always wanted in on the action.

 

_I had another one of my dreams last night. We were out in the woods and he kissed me. He told me he needed me more than anything, then stuff happened and I had to get up and change my sheets afterwards. I’m sleeping with just my duvet tonight since I don’t have a spare set._

Joe pushed his shirt sleeves up and sat back more comfortably in the chair. His gut twisted a little at Kent’s ramblings. Kent had had dreams about him? Dreams where ‘stuff happened?’ Did he still have those kinds of dreams? Were they still about Joe?

 

Joe turned over several pages.

 

_6 th October 2010_

_I feel dirty and humiliated. They shouldn’t have hurt me there. It’s almost worse than if they’d tried to stab me in the arm or the chest or something. At least that’s an area that can be talked about. The way Joe looked at me in the hospital. I just feel so...broken. He’ll never want me now. Not that he ever did in the first place._

_11 th October 2010_

_Fuck him. Just fucking fuck him sideways. He hates me. He doesn’t trust me. He thinks I’m a cowardly little shit who wants to screw everyone over. I can’t believe I was ever in love with him._

Joe stopped reading and slammed the book shut. He knew he’d hurt Kent badly that day. Knew he’d acted terribly. He’d forgiven himself because Kent had seemed to forgive him, but seeing those ugly words scrawled out in Kent’s own hand was like a sharp slap to the face. He felt so guilty his throat ached. He swallowed a few times to no avail.

 

Kent was in love with him. He hated himself for not realising. Of course, he’d noticed how obedient Kent was. How much respect he showed. He’d noticed how much Kent had improved his attitude and his work. But he hadn’t noticed that it all went deeper than that. What kind of detective was he? He’d managed to break Kent’s heart without even knowing of its existence.

 

He’d make this right though, he had to. He opened the journal again and read on, this time from the more recent entries.

 

_15 th January 2012_

_He seems more interested in women at the moment. I don’t like it. It’s not him. It’s like he’s having them forced on him by some unseen agenda. I don’t think it’ll work out with this one though. She’s too much like him._

Joe smiled. Mina. Kent was right, they were too alike, and too different where it really mattered. It occured to him that he didn’t have a problem knowing that Kent had written all this about him. He was slightly surprised that he was the main focus of the journal, given everything Kent had to deal with at work, but it didn’t repulse or frighten him. If anything, he was extremely flattered. He felt bad for hurting Kent before. He was going to make it up to him. Maybe he’d even feel the same way Kent did, given time and the right circumstances. He felt a warm, fluttery feeling in his stomach, and his throat loosened slightly.

 

_11 th March 2012_

_I met a girl today._

Joe stopped breathing. The fluttery feeling evolved into a tempestuous swirling.

 

_She’s really nice. She came up and spoke to me during the gig, and we ended up standing outside and talking about music for two hours. We completely missed the band, and I apologised, but she laughed and said she’d had a better time talking to me anyway. I think I’ll see her again. What’ve I got to loose, at the end of the day?_

Me. Joe’s hands were shaking. He was meant to be in love with

 

_Joe’s made it obvious where I stand. I feel sorry for him about Morgan. He really liked her. I think seeing them together is what finally did it for me, and when she said my feelings were making me a bad detective, it was like the wake up call I finally needed to move on._

Joe leaned back heavily in the chair, exhaled slowly as he stared up at the ceiling. After several minutes, he sat up straight again, smiled sadly at the journal and closed it slowly. A couple of tears fell onto the cover, beading up on the thick leather. Joe brushed them away hastily with his thumb.

He put the journal carefully back in the drawer, pushing the old, black wood fully closed this time. Then he picked the bin up off the floor and walked back to his office.


	2. Chapter 2

Kent was a nervous wreck. Tonight was his fourth date with Georgina, and he knew that she was going to want to move things in a more...forward direction. He swallowed as he looked at himself in the mirror. This was so difficult. Surely it shouldn’t be this difficult.

When they had met at the gig, Georgina had seemed so nice, so down to earth, so relaxed. Nothing like Joe at all, Kent mused to himself, and immediately chastised himself for the thought. Not thinking about him any more. Definitely not thinking about him tonight. He ran his hands through his hair in a vain attempt to flatten it, gave up, and left the bathroom.

 

The restaurant was too quiet. Kent was alarmingly aware of everything that was going on around them. Georgina didn’t seem to notice that Kent barely ate. She talked at length about her day at work while Kent tuned in and out and watched her play with her long brown hair across the table. I think I prefer blonds, he thought idly. Joe’s blond.

He blinked a few times and coughed. Not. Thinking. About. Him. Stop it.

“Are you OK?” Georgina paused mid sentence and gave him a funny look.

“What?! Oh, I’m fine. Completely fine. Carry on,” he smiled guiltily.

She gave him another curious look before launching into an explanation of why a woman at work hated her, and why her boss had, thus far, done nothing about it. Kent sighed.

 

It was still early when they left the restaurant. Kent suggested finding a pub or something, but Georgina smiled shyly at him from beneath lowered lashes.

“Wouldn’t you rather come back to mine?”

Icy panic knawed at Kent’s insides. “Er...”

“I bought that tea that you like,” she touched his arm gently.

“Yeah, OK,” he forced a very small smile, “that sounds alright.”

She practically bounced on her feet as she took her phone out of her bag and rang for a taxi. Kent would’ve been flattered if he hadn’t felt so sick with worry.

 

Unsurprisingly, the tea never materialised. Georgina threw herself at him the minute they walked through her front door. He ended up pinned against the wall with Georgina trying to force her tongue into his mouth. After a brief internal struggle, he gave up and let her have her own way. I can stop it before it gets too far, he told himself. I don’t have to go through with anything I’m not comfortable with.

 

They were naked on her bed within ten minutes. Stopping didn’t really seem to be on the agenda any more. Kent held her close as they kissed, willing himself to get hard. I wonder if Joe feels this soft, he thought as he stroked Georgina’s back. The thoughts came before he could stop himself. Would he let me touch him like this? How would he sound? How would he taste?

Kent moaned softly. Georgina smiled and pulled him closer. She pushed his shoulders gently as she kissed his neck. “Will you?” She didn’t finish the sentence. Kent kissed her again and nodded. She rolled onto her back and Kent shuffled between her legs.

Not done this for awhile. He stared at her, all spread out for him. He tried to take a deep breath without her realising as he lowered his head.

Joe would make some amazing sounds if I went down on him. Kent decided not to even bother fighting the thoughts any more, since they were obviously helping him to accomplish the task at hand. He let his mind wander and imagined Joe, stretched out on his bed, legs bent up and outwards, making delicious little whimpering noises as Kent kissed him and licked his most intimate place.

Kent groaned and pushed his erection into the bed. Above him, Georgina ruined the fantasy by mewling in a distinctly un-Joeish way. Kent frowned and tried to bring it back.

He’d take all of Joe’s shaft. He knew how to do that and more besides. He was probably wasted with a woman, and there the fantasy disappeared again. Kent grumbled under his breath and gave it up as a bad job. Georgina was writhing, panting heavily.

“Get up here,” she fisted her hand in his hair, “need you inside.”

Kent froze. Shit.

“Em?” Georgina looked at him, “Is there a problem?”

And right there, the fantasy was back. Joe was calling Kent into his office to discuss his work attitude. “Is there a problem?” He’d say, “you seem very distracted lately.” And then they’d fuck on Joe’s desk.

Kent’s dick ached at the thought. “Nope. No problem.”

Georgina wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed inside. Joe would be tighter. Kent pushed in to the hilt with little warning. Georgina gasped. Joe would gasp like that too.

Kent knew he should slow down, be a bit more gentle, but the images of Joe were coming thick and fast now and he couldn’t help himself. He squeezed his eyes shut. Joe in tight underwear. Joe fondling himself through said underwear until it pulled even tighter against him as he filled out. Joe loosening his tie. Joe smiling at him. Joe sucking his cock.

Kent moaned. So fucking close. Ahhhnnnnggg Joe! He was almost sure he didn’t say it out loud.

“Em! Em stop!” Georgina was digging her fingernails into his sides.

Kent felt like crying. He willed himself to stay still, “What? What’s wrong?” His breathing was laboured.

“That was great, but I’m getting a little sore. Can we stop now?” She smiled sweetly at him.

Kent didn’t know what to say. He felt like he’d been whacked in the face with a wet towel. “Uh, yeah, OK,” he pulled out and sat up on his heels. His cock looked livid; purple and engorged. “Can I, er, use your bathroom, please?”

“Yeah,” Georgina turned onto her side and yawned, “second door on the left.”

Kent practically bolted from the bed. It took everything he had not to slam the bathroom door. Selfish, inconsiderate, stupid...He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. You just spent the entire shag fantasising about your boss, he told himself. Not exactly great for her.

The bathroom was very modern. There was a whole unit with drawers in it and a sink in the middle. Kent braced himself with one hand on the unit and began stroking himself with the other. He closed his eyes and imagined Joe behind him, fucking him slowly, filling him up, stretching. He worked himself faster. Joe kissing his neck, holding him close with an arm around his stomach.

Kent sobbed as he came in the sink.

 

To say Kent was in a bad mood the following morning was an understatement. He got to work early. Only Joe was there before he was. He scowled at the dark, distorted shape of Joe moving around inside his office. Kent opened his desk drawer, took out his journal and scrawled angrily.

_Not as over him as I thought._


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days were hard for Chandler. He lay in bed each morning, listening to his alarm without bothering to turn it off. He contemplated calling in sick, picked up the phone, dialled the first three digits and then gave up. That course of action wouldn’t help anybody, least of all himself.

 

His usual morning shower now included berating himself for being so pathetic and childish. He couldn’t drink a cup of coffee without thinking about how Kent liked his. Every scooter he drove past on the street caught his eye. Put simply, he was a mess.

 

He didn’t know that Kent was a mess too. Emerson hadn’t bothered to tell anyone at work about Georgina, so their inevitable break up two days after that God awful encounter didn’t lead to any awkward questions or pitying glances. He tried not to let his misery show at work, but it was difficult. He had honestly, truly believed that Georgina was right for him and that his infatuation with Chandler was over.  Idiot, he thought as he took his notebook out of his desk. Stupid, fucking, loser.

 

Chandler walked a little slower than he should’ve done past Kent’s desk. He saw Kent take the journal out of his desk drawer, then hastily replace it. Chandler frowned.

 

“Sir?”

 

Chandler stopped and turned around.

 

“Are you OK, Sir?”

 

Kent was staring up at him with those impossibly dark eyes. His forehead was wrinkled slightly in concern. He looked unbelievably cute.

 

“I’m fine, thank you,” Chandler forced a smile, “how’re you?”

 

Kent looked down again, “Alright, I suppose.”

 

Chandler felt the hairs on his arms prickle. Maybe Kent was having problems with the girl he had written about in his journal. Maybe they’d split up. He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.

 

“Are you sure?” Chandler made his face look as open and trusting as possible, then, feeling bold, he walked back towards Kent’s desk and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do you need to talk about anything? I’m always here, you know, if you want to”

 

“Talk,” Kent sounded flat and emotionless. His eyes fell to the desk again, “Thank you, Sir.”

 

“I mean it,” Chandler’s head was swimming with newfound confidence, “why don’t we get together after work and go for a drink or something?” He blinked. Well, that was forward.

 

Kent stared at him. “You never go out for drinks after work,” he frowned.

 

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Chandler felt giddy and a little sick, “besides, we’re friends, aren’t we?” He hoped he hadn’t gone red to match how hot he was feeling.

 

Kent smiled at that, “Yeah. Yeah we are. OK then, when do you want to go? Tonight?”

 

Shit. “I can’t. Not tonight. I promised Miles I’d help him with something.”

 

Kent looked like he’d been kicked.

 

“But tomorrow,” Chandler all but shouted, “tomorrow, yes?”

 

“Alright,” Kent’s smile was gorgeous. Sexy and genuinely happy.

 

It physically pained Chandler to walk back to his office.

 

 

Chandler took it as a sign from the great Gods of meddling that everyone chose to clock off on time that evening. Kent waved to him through the office door as he left. He waved back, feeling the guilt squirm in his stomach at having lied. Miles had dinner plans with his wife tonight, and Chandler needed time to prepare.

 

He waited until he was sure everyone had left, busying himself with paperwork and general office rearranging. Long after it had gone dark, he crept into the incident room and made a beeline for Kent’s desk.

 

The journal was in the same place as before. Chandler felt warm all over as he held it, opening it carefully to the last page he had read.

 

_It was the wake up call I finally needed to move on._

Yes, yes, he’d read that bit. He skipped ahead to the next section.

 

_Took Georgina out again tonight. It didn’t go as well as I thought it would. We ended up back at her place for the night._

Chandler inhaled slowly. Did he really want to read about Kent having sex with someone else?

 

_It was terrible._

Yes.  Apparently he did want to keep reading.

 

_She was all over me at first, which was unsettling cos I hadn’t been with a girl for years. Somehow I actually managed to go through with it, but then all I could think about was Joe. Every time she touched me, or made a noise, or brought me out of my fantasy in any way, it went down. I was terrified that she was gonna get upset or angry with me, so I just carried on thinking about him. I imagined every possible dirty scenario that I could (none of which I’m gonna relive at work, thank you)._

Chandler reached down and adjusted himself.

 

_He got me so close. Just, everything I thought about doing with him made me so hard I ached, and then she made me stop. Without even warning me, she just asked me to stop then and there. I could’ve cried._

Chandler winced in sympathy as his trousers became uncomfortably tight.

 

_I ended the night by wanking in her bathroom, imagining Joe fucking me up against the full length mirror._

Chandler made a whimpering noise. There was nothing else written for that day, but the scrawled entry on the next page made him light up with want.

 

_Not as over him as I thought._

 


	4. Chapter 4

No. No. No. Really no. Kent held each shirt up to himself in the mirror, sighed, and let it drop to the floor. When had he acquired so many shirts anyway? He looked at the clock on his bedside table. 8:15am. He’d only got up an hour earlier than he’d needed to, then. That wasn’t unhealthy. He frowned at his reflection. He’s taking you out as a friend, nothing more. He doesn’t want you being mopey around the office and screwing up your work. It’s all about work, that’s it. There is absolutely nothing else behind this, so get over yourself. Kent chose a dark green shirt in the end.

 

Conversely, Chandler practically bounced out of bed that morning. He just couldn’t stop smiling, and all but skipped from the door of the incident room to his office. He noticed that Kent hadn’t come in early, and was slightly disappointed. Oh well, I’ll see more of him tonight. He smiled, his face heating up. A damn sight more, if things go my way.

He watched his team arrive, growing more and more aggravated when each of them failed to be Kent. Eventually, Emerson showed up. He apologised for being late by waving to Chandler through the glass and shrugging. Chandler waved back and smiled. Kent smiled too.

“What’s up with you?” Miles walked into Chandler’s office, turned round, saw Kent, who quickly stopped smiling and sat down at his desk, and turned back to Chandler. “Why are you waving at people?”

“I wasn’t,” Chandler cleared his throat and began arranging things on his desk. “Can I help you?” He asked, clearly put out.

Miles stared at him intently.

“Well?”

“I need you to take a look at this, boss,” he handed over a thick manila folder.

“Right. Thank you. Is that all?” Chandler moved his phone to the left side of his desk blotter, glared at it, and moved it back to the right.

“Yep. Yep that’s me done.” Miles made no move to leave the office.

Chandler folded his hands neatly on the desk and struggled to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Was there anything else?”

“Nope.” Miles was smiling now.

“Can you leave me to get on with things then, please?”

“Fair enough.”

Chandler sighed heavily as soon as Miles was out of the room.

 

The day dragged unbelievably. Kent started clock watching around half 3, willing the minutes away. About an hour before they were all due to leave, Chandler walked over to his desk and asked, very quietly, “Still on for tonight?”

Kent grinned and nodded. “Of course.”

“Good. Wait behind a bit after everyone’s gone. I don’t want everyone inviting themselves.”

“Alright.”

Joe went back to his office, and Kent spent the rest of the hour analysing what he could’ve possibly meant by that.

 

Kent waited around like Chandler had said, saying goodnight to his colleagues as they left one by one. He noticed that Miles lingered slightly longer than usual, but he was long gone by the time Chandler turned off his desk lamp (six times, Kent counted) and came out to meet him.

“Ready?” Chandler asked brightly.

“Yeah, where do you want to go?”

“I know somewhere close by. Shouldn’t be too busy at this time. Is that alright?

“Yeah, that’s great. Anything’s great.”

 

Chandler was right about the pub. There were only seven other people there, including themselves, dotted around tables that were nicely spaced out. Kent shrugged out of his jacket as Chandler led the way towards a table near the back, well away from any of the other patrons.

“What do you fancy?” Chandler asked as they sat down.

Kent gazed at him. “Anything,” he said quietly. “Everything.”

Chandler laughed, “I meant to drink.”

“Oh, er, lager and lime, please,” Kent grimaced in embarrassment as Chandler headed off to the bar, still chuckling. Not here on a date! He internally screamed at himself. You’re being a prat. He pinched his forearm hard to drive the point home.

Chandler was back quickly. He placed Kent’s drink in front of him and sat back in his chair. “Right. Now, tell me all about it.”

 

In all honesty, Kent didn’t really know why he opened up to Chandler the way he did. He felt comfortable and relaxed for the first time in ages, so admittedly that was part of it, but he hadn’t expected to open the floodgates. He told Chandler all about Georgina, how they’d met seeing a local band, how he’d thought they were good for each other. He even explained what had happened the night he’d gone back to hers, although he’d been careful to leave out Fantasy Joe and his magical cock hardening qualities.

“To be honest, Emerson,” Chandler said when he finally finished, “I don’t think she was right for you. I think you need to be with someone who understands you better. Understands the work you do. Treats you the way you deserve to be treated.”

Kent was on his fourth pint by now, “What, like, another officer?”

“Possibly an inspector.”

“What?”

Chandler smirked at him and held up his glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Kent frowned.

“I’m ready to leave,” Chandler said after draining the remnants of his pint, “are you?”

Kent tried his best to hide his disappointment. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Sir. For listening to me ramble.”

“Who said I was finished listening?”

Kent gulped. “I, er, I thought you said you were ready to leave.”

“Yes. Ready to leave this pub, not you. Do you want to come back to mine for awhile?”

“Er,” Kent looked anxiously around the pub.

“I think we’d be more comfortable there, more private.”

Chandler touched his arm gently. Kent felt downright giddy with excitement and vaguely nauseated. Four pints, he reminded himself, four pints and the man you’ve been fucking head over heels in love with for the last three years just asked you back to his place.

He smiled shyly, “OK.”

“I’ll get us a taxi. Probably shouldn’t drive.”

 

They were outside Chandler’s front door far quicker than logic dictated they should’ve been. Kent felt hot all over, fantasising about the two of them and what they were going to do. He reminded himself that they hadn’t even kissed yet, and that he was still probably imagining things, but then they were on the other side of the door, and Chandler was pressing him against the wall. Their kisses were slow and unhurried as they took the time to fully explore one another.

Chandler broke the kiss, breathing heavily and resting his forehead against the wall. Kent traced little kisses up and down his neck, “I’ve wanted this forever,” he murmured against hot skin.

“I know,” Chandler kissed him again, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip and demanding entrance.

Kent felt like his knees were about to give up. He clung to Chandler’s shoulders, but the DI pulled away and took his hands instead. “I want to show you something.”

 

Chandler’s bathroom was immaculate, white ceramic and chrome and fluffy towels. Kent stared at himself in the huge mirror above the sink, watching Chandler open his shirt buttons while kissing the back of his neck. He was hard in his pants, and whimpered slightly as Chandler’s hands moved lower, stroking him intimately.

“I knew you’d love this,” Chandler’s voice was deep and so, so arousing.

“Love what?” Kent gasped as Chandler’s teeth sunk in ever so gently.

“The mirror. You’ve fantasised about me fucking you from behind,” he bit down again, “fucking you in front of the mirror.”

What?

“Stop.” Kent pushed himself more upright and moved away from Chandler. He turned around so that they were face to face. “How did you know that?”

Chandler looked flushed. “You told me. At the pub.”

Kent shook his head. “No, Joe. No I didn’t.”

Chandler looked away.

Kent suddenly felt hot and shaky, and sick to his stomach. “You read it.”

“I didn’t mean to, Emerson, honestly,” Joe stroked his arms to comfort him, but Kent pulled away.

“Why were you looking through my desk? Do you still not trust me, after everything?”

“No! No it’s not like that. Of course I trust you, I just”

“I won’t,” Kent’s voice sounded very small, lost. Chandler wished he was shouting, or screaming, or anything other than this.

“I won’t forgive you. Not again,” Kent began buttoning up his shirt.

“Emerson, please.”

“No,” their eyes met, and Chandler didn’t think he had ever seen anyone look more miserable. “Let me leave now.”

Chandler stood aside. He stared at himself in the mirror as the door slammed.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Kent didn’t come to work the next day. Or the day after. By day three, Chandler was beside himself. He called the young detective every hour that he was in the office and heard nothing. To make matters worse, his team were starting to connect his anxious behaviour with Kent’s absence. Their eyes flitted from Kent’s empty desk to him pacing in his office. Their looks went from those of genuine concern to suspicion and, finally, accusation. Chandler didn’t think he could stand it any more.

At 3pm he made the decision to visit Kent at home. He’d packed up his briefcase and was about to leave the office when it occurred to him that he had no idea where the young detective lived. Mentally kicking himself, he logged back in to his computer and pulled up Kent’s records. What’s one more betrayal? He thought bitterly as he wrote down the address.

 

Kent sat on the couch in his pyjamas, typing draft after draft of his letter of resignation. He frowned at his laptop screen and deleted the last sentence. Nothing sounded right, somehow. Nothing conveyed his misery in just the right way. Of course, he couldn’t be _honest_ about his reason for leaving. He had chosen ‘personal differences amongst colleagues that I am unable to resolve’ as his go to phrase, but it sounded limp and pathetic. He leant back against the couch cushions and sighed heavily. If he told the truth, Chandler would get the sack. An ugly, bitter, twisted part of Kent wanted this to happen so badly it made his head ache, but the softer, sappier, still in love with Chandler after everything he’s done part rationalised that his boss was damn good at his job, and it would be a waste for him to lose it.

Kent was debating whether or not to make some toast when he heard a knock at the door. He put his laptop down carefully on the coffee table and went to answer it.

Chandler was leaning against the doorframe, and he looked awful. His skin looked waxy and pale, and his eyes were ringed with red and heavy, dark bags.

Kent straightened himself up and looked directly at Chandler’s miserable, apologetic face. “No.”

“Emerson, please. I just want to talk to you.”

“No. I have absolutely nothing to say to you. Please leave now.”

“Em,” Chandler put his foot in the doorway to stop Kent shutting him out. “I’m an arse. I’m scum. I can’t fucking stand myself at the minute. I...I hate this,” he tried to swallow the emotion balled up in his throat, “I want to talk to you. Please.”

Kent thought about it for a couple of minutes. He shrugged and turned away from the door. “Fine. Say your piece.”

Chandler followed him into the flat and closed the door behind him. Kent closed his laptop and sat stiffly, hugging his knees. Chandler sat in the armchair opposite, not wanting to crowd Kent or confuse himself. Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

“Go on then,” Kent picked at a threat on his pyjama top, “I actually have things to do today, so make it quick.”

Chandler interlocked his fingers, then separated them again. “Firstly, I just want to say how deeply, truly sorry I am. I violated your trust in the most despicable way. It was vile.”

Kent nodded.

“I know there’s nothing I can do to take it back. I know I’ve hurt you,” he glanced at Kent, then looked away. “I know you’re unlikely to forgive me, but please come back to work. I need you. Everyone needs you.”

“I don’t need you,” Kent’s voice was hard, strained, “I’ve already written my resignation letter. Don’t expect me back in the office. I’m sick of that job and I’m sick of you.”

Chandler stared at the carpet, “I’m so sorry, Em.”

“You’ve said. Is that all?”

“No,” Chandler reached into his coat pocket and took out a thin notebook. The cover was black and glossy, and shone in the weak sunlight that filtered through the closed curtains. “Read this. Please.”

He handed the notebook across. Emerson looked at it cautiously, turning it over in his hands. Resigning himself to the fact that Chandler was unlikely to leave any time soon, he opened the book and read the first page.

_I am in love with Emerson Kent. Everything he does makes me smile. I love his ridiculously massive eyes and the way his hair never behaves. I love how strong he is, how brave he is. He’s a Hell of a lot braver than me. I wish I could be more like him._

Kent looked up, “You wrote this?”

Chandler smiled weakly, “Keep reading.”

Kent turned a few pages and read on.

_I can’t believe he’s seeing someone else. I always thought of him as mine and mine alone. When I picture him in bed with that woman, my heart breaks. I wish we could be together. I know that he returned my feelings, at one point, but I was a coward. I pushed him away and hurt him, and now he’ll never come back._

Kent took a deep breath and realised his hands were shaking. He turned over a few more pages.

_I can’t do this without him. I had my chance and I ruined it. He hates me. I hate myself. I will never get over him. Not ever._

“Why did you write this?” Kent’s eyes felt vulnerably damp.

“I read what was in your heart. I thought you should read what was in mine.”

Kent flipped through the rest of the notebook. Each page was covered with references to him, how Chandler felt about him, them.

“You filled the whole notebook?” He asked, surprised.

Chandler shrugged. “It was only 200 pages.”

Kent smiled in spite of himself. “Well, thank you, Joe. That...That was actually pretty brave of you.”

Chandler stood up, “I’ll leave, now. You can keep that. I just...I wanted you to know, that’s all.”

“Thank you.”

They shared a small smile before Chandler turned and left.

 

Kent came to work the next day. Immediately he was surrounded by the rest of the team, clucking over him like overly possessive hens. He shook them off after about an hour of interrogation. Chandler smiled at him through the glass door of his office. He smiled back.

At lunch time, everyone decided to head out. Kent lingered behind and let himself into Chandler’s office without knocking.

Chandler sat back in his chair, “I’m glad you decided to come back,” he said quietly.

Kent blushed a little, “Yeah, well. I read something yesterday that kind of put things in perspective for me,” he looked at Chandler for slightly too long. “I’m not saying all is forgiven, Joe. Not by a long shot, but the fact that you did that,” he paused, “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before. It must’ve been hard for you.”

Chandler shrugged, “Not really. It was quite nice, actually. Being honest for a change.”

Kent smiled. “Do you want to come to the pub with us for lunch? Apparently I was missed, and Miles is feeling generous.”

“Yes, alright,” Chandler stood up and started to put on his coat.

Kent leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, ever so lightly.

Chandler followed him out of the office and out into the crisp, winter sunlight.


End file.
